


Red Robin

by Prawnperson



Category: The Fast Show
Genre: M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Rarepair, based on “The Fast Show Book”
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:14:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26704291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prawnperson/pseuds/Prawnperson
Summary: Ted contemplates a letter from Mr Mayhew.
Relationships: Ralph Mayhew/Ted
Comments: 7
Kudos: 8





	Red Robin

**Author's Note:**

> In the Fast Show Book, there’s a page that shows all the unsent letters Ralph’s written to Ted. The page directly opposite shows the letter Ted actually receives. I couldn’t help but notice that they both had photos of each other.

The small square of creamy yellow paper sits rather inconspicuously on the table in Ted’s shed. The envelope it came in lays torn beneath it, as do a few stray onion bulbs Ted still hasn’t gotten around to planting, and perhaps never will, with how big of a distraction the drainage in the lower field has been proving to be of late. 

As he sips his tea, he stares at the letter, at the Mayhew family crest printed onto the paper in bold black ink. The actual writing has been done with a plain blue fountain pen, in Ralph’s usual neat writing.

‘Ted—  
Can you please see to the drainage in the lower field this week.  
Ralph’

It is what it says at least, no overtly emotional poetry like the past several holiday cards have been, but something about it doesn’t seem quite right to Ted. It’s as if he’s missing something. He takes a larger drink of tea and scans the paper. It takes no small amount of squinting with how the pot plants on the shed’s windowsill are blocking the sunlight through the already dirty glass, but finally, he spots it, and his heart sinks into his boots.

“Oh, sir.” Ted mumbles.

Etched into the soft writing paper are one or two very distinct words, an obvious sign that Ralph had been leaning rather heavily on the page prior and had either been too distressed or a bit too foolish to notice the imprints left behind. Although it is so hard to see them clearly, the word ‘Damn’ stands out near the very centre, all block capitals with an angry squiggly line drawn through it. It reminds Ted of those few outbursts he’s ever witnessed from the master, the sudden outcry of long repressed emotion. The thought comes to mind that he could probably rub a pencil against it to find out what the rest of it said, but the thought alone feels almost like an invasion of Ralph’s privacy.

He’ll tell him when he’s ready. 

That is, if he ever tells him.

Ted glances around surreptitiously, on the off chance that Ralph should be bounding over with some poor excuse to exchange a few paltry pleasantries, and upon ascertaining that he isn’t, he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out the small picture within. It had been taken some many months ago on a digital camera. It portrays Ralph holding a fishing rod, looking rather startled and entirely unaware that he’s being photographed, per his own request.

The original intention had been that the photos would be used in something like a Red Robin email at the end of the year. Ted had heard that Clive had suggested it to him in the hopes that it would bring the Mayhew estate into the eyes of the public once again—Although, if Ted was being honest, he had always assumed that it was merely a way of trying to open up another avenue for Ralph to ridicule himself for all those he wrongly considered friends to laugh at. He had likely only agreed to do it to because he had felt too nervous to turn down the idea, despite the fact it would involve having to tell countless people he was unfamiliar with all about his private life in the most vulgar, falsified manner.

Yes, Ted is near certain it had all been the setup of some horrible joke.

He’s very glad that the master had decided to call off the whole thing. Whether or not it had something to do with Ted giving him vicious, cold looks every time he so much as raised his voice to Ralph, he would never know. By this time, physical copies of the photos had already been developed for ‘posterity’, as Ralph had claimed, and he had rather delicately placed the photograph in question into Ted’s hands, claiming that it would be a good one to use if he ever went missing. 

“I wouldn’t really know about that, sir.” 

Ted had mumbled, although he hadn’t exactly hidden the tiny, lopsided smile that had flitted across his features. He imagines Ralph wouldn’t have been able to hide the blush he had taken on if he had tried. 

So now, the photograph of Ralph, depicting him with a few stray waves of his hair peeking out from beneath his cap, his expression one of total surprise, his eyes as wide as saucers, makes Ted smile.


End file.
